Image credit:

Wednesday, 23 December 2015


Try hard or harder
Truth and love cannot be
Ignored or covered.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "cover"

Monday, 30 November 2015


The Earth was my ground,
As I found deliverance,
And sky my limit.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "ground"

Monday, 23 November 2015


I asked for pepper.
Life gave me more than I asked,
With a pinch of salt.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "pepper"

Tuesday, 10 November 2015


Image Credit:

Many a mother lost theirs sons
Many a son bereaved theirs wives
It was a struggle with blood and guns
Stabbing from back with sharp knives.

"Fight or die for motherland," they shouted.
Men and women's manners absolved,
A seed of love for motherland sprouted
A tree bearing fruits and flowers, evolved.

Love-tree has life and is life-giving,
But, why is the red only from blood?
The love-tree that bore red flowers is thriving
When love and freedom are labelled to bloodshed.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 293

Monday, 9 November 2015


As the steam rose high,
The lustful couple kissed more
In the shower tub.


As the steam whistled
The food was being cooked
For hungry stomach.


Written for Haiku Horizons: "steam"

Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Welcome to wonderland

Image Credit: photo by Elaine Usdin

Do you remember, Miss Alice? She followed a rabbit and got lost in a Wonderland. I wonder if life is also the same! We chase a dream, we run behind it like there is no tomorrow, when they come true, our fears for life are assuaged temporarily, until we find another rabbit to chase. This is a vicious cycle.

So, welcome again to wonderland and which rabbit did you chase down till here?

Monday, 2 November 2015


How can you forget
Your to-do list and home-work
And not your dinner?


A nerve in his brian
That tiny and elusive
Made him forget past.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "forget"

Wednesday, 21 October 2015


The very fact that this great man laid his hands upon my book, is in itself an incredible feeling! In the month of February, 2015, the most awaited anthology 'Blank Space', was released. The celebration was, firstly, because I was the author of the story, 'She was loved anyway' under my pen name, Sun Bloom, and secondly it was going to be released through the hands of great visionaries of India, Sir APJ and Sir Kailash Satyarthi. Both of them being admirers of children, and the anthology being exclusively for schooling children, all kindred thoughts and people fell in the right place and at the right time. And then, this idea turned into reality!

My Anthology, Blank Space

The project being launched by Sir APJ
Image Credit: Blank Space page on Facebook

The project being launched by Sir Kailash Satyarthi
Image Credit: Blank Space page on Facebook
When I heard the news about Dr. APJ's death, the fact that he had touched my life so closely and now is gone forever, struck me numb for a moment. At second thought, there was a gratifying feeling that I was one of the lucky writers to be recognized through him.

Lucky to be caressed by Sir APJ's grace, I dedicate this blog post to him!

I would like to end with his inspiring quote.
No sanction can stand against ignited minds.

Tuesday, 20 October 2015


Image Credit: No. 8, Black Flowing, Jackson Pollock

At thirty three ignominiously,
His life was scattered around.
He had chosen his wife wisely,
Family-person, filthy rich and sound.

But, he was bereft before he knew,
Left with an infant and an ailing mother.
He incited sympathy of a few,
But his blood relatives did not bother.

You will be mine forever, he had said,
And had entered into blissful marriage.
A path of a new beginning they had tread,
A new chapter of life on a fresh page.

Unknown hands had pictured a messy story;
And the ink was strewn all over the page.
He could blame no one for the lost glory,
And could never come to terms with inner rage.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 290

Monday, 19 October 2015


Our earth is silent
Though its emotions run deep
With burning hot core.

It must have felt very deep,
Tolerated and nurtured
Everyone alike.

To know the value
Of silence and harmony,
One must be a saint.

Saturday, 17 October 2015


It was raining cats and dogs. Ensconcing himself, Sunil drove his car. A lightening flashed across the sky. It is a beautiful phenomenon to know that a small spark can transform into a powerful lightning and throw light to the earth below. A spark can ignite a house and burn it to cinder, the very same spark can bring about a beautiful sight across the sky as lightning and the same spark can take away lives. Nature is mysterious, a thing of beauty can be a thing of danger too!

Sunil's thoughts thronged around his mother. As the bumper of his car cannoned into the pouring rain, his irrepressible thoughts made him overwrought. He was disowned by his mother when he was a teenager. Not because he was an uncontrollable bastard that any mother could not control, not because he brought disfame to his parents. But, because she was not interested in parenting. Her mother had dreamt of big life - house full of maids and servants, wardrobe crammed with exquisite collection of clothes, an extravagant bungalow in her name, nothing else to worry about in her life. And taking care of a child? That was too strenuous for her.

He had grown in his relatives' house all these scorching years, managed to find a job for himself and stood on his own legs. He was a successful man for an average middle class person. His mother had never tried to know where or how he was brought up. It was surprising for a mother to never think about her son. It was appalling, in fact for an outsider. But, his mother was who she was. 

Sunil honked when he rushed to over-take another vehicle ahead of him. It was 5 AM and he had driven 500 km from his residence to his mother's residence. He never knew the reason that made him travel the distance for a woman who was not worth it. Tears ran down his cheeks, as the sentence reverberated in his head.

Your mother passed away tonight at 11 PM!

Yes, she was gone forever from his life. Not just gone, staying somewhere unknown to him, but, she was gone forever, never to return. He had lost a second chance to know, accept and be with his mother and she had lost her son and her life at the same time. Gods must be having a good laugh at them. 

He stopped his vehicle at Utopia Manor. He had finally reached his mother's residence. It was, indeed, a bungalow, she was living her dream. She was filthy rich, the design of the house could say it. 

A man noticing him, immediately jumped on his feet and ran towards him. He introduced himself as his mother's husband and handed him a note that was left for him from his mother.

I lived a disillusioned life and my worst regret is that I abandoned my motherhood for it.

His knees grew weak and he sat down on the grass in dead silence for a long time. When he was done mourning and tried to stand up, he could not feel his legs. He had driven all night and had turned numb physically and emotionally.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is ‘He drove all night.'

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

Providential Smile

“Life is short. 

Smile while you still have teeth.”

- Mallory Hopkins.

Is it not funny? Come to think of it, why do you need teeth for a smile? Because it adds beauty to your face or your smile? If yes, that means your smile and hence life is dependent on youth and age. Is that an inference of the quote? Sir Mallory Hopkins himself should explain it to me. The very reason I picked this quote is to show how everything is beautiful and centre about youth. We find someone's smile infectious and inspiring then. But, as we get older and wiser, we know, nothing is forever, nothing at all. Is it probably then a few start looking for an inner source of happiness.

For every parent, her/his child's happiness brings smile instinctively. And I am no exception. My baby's every activity brings smile on my face.

I have noticed a few people unable to find anything special in a baby. As a matter of fact, babies are annoying for them. So, the source of smile for any person may not be really external. It is a gift to be able to smile at anything. And a greater gift to be able to smile at everything.

So, if you ask me about that one person who can make me smile, even on a dreary day, it is my child.

Tuesday, 13 October 2015


Image credit: George Tooker, self-portrait

A legacy that a large sea-snail can leave behind, epic wars of relics like Mahabharatha and Ramayana began with one deserted small house of a sea-snail - conch. The amazing sound that can be produced from a conch is another different dazzling creation of nature altogether. In Hindu mythology, when a conch is blown, it marks the beginning of a war, death and agony. An insignificant snail that made its home in Paanchjanya (Lord Krishna's conch) must have been a very significant one to have started Mahabharatha war.

I wish the Department of Archaeology restored the souvenir of a happy home of a snail paving way for destruction, agony and loss! Lastly, not to forget, re-establishment of Dharma.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 289

Monday, 12 October 2015


When the lights are out
And all our conscience is dead
The game is over.


Weekend is over
Next week ahead and again
The routine irked her.


Written for Haiku Horizons: "over"

Sunday, 11 October 2015

Move on

Bitter-sweet; is it not strange how two feelings of entirely different meanings combine to form a common memorable experience? And stranger it is when it appears at the same time of every year. October is marked by autumn in India; fall as they call it in western countries. The shedding of leaves is a prominent part of the season. Mother Earth sheds her old leaves and welcomes a new beginning of another winter season. Yes, from bygone years, the earth, sun, moon and the universe have been doing the same - move on.

It was one such October, a rainy evening. Asha was returning from office in her two wheeler. It was with great struggle she could ride.There were very few people on the road, mostly those in a hurry to reach their destination. The rest were under the protection of roofs and shelters. Asha wanted to be home to catch up with her weekend plans. As she disliked anything that came as an obstacle to her weekend chores, she cursed the rains and dared to ride home undeterred.

She approached a red signal at a road junction when she paused. Her engine was still roaring to jump into motion once the red turned green. But, something caught her attention. A sultrily dressed young beautiful woman was waving her hand towards her for a lift. The dampness of her clothes embraced her hour-glass body, making her desirable for any man who laid his eyes on her. At first, Asha thought it was someone else she was waving at and ignored the sign. Soon the lady inched closer towards Asha and made a gesture with her hand for a lift.

Asha decided to help this woman after a second thought. She signalled her to sit behind her. Riding pillion, she adjusted herself as Asha re-started her vehicle. As they progressed further on the way, Asha could not hold back her curiosity. She asked her for an introduction. The next couple of sentences that she heard, brought Asha's thought process to a screeching halt.

My name is Mallika. I am a prostitute. 

Really? She is a prostitute and where am I dropping her to? Another prospective customer? Or where she resides? What would people think of her if they saw her near her residence?

Please pull over here, I can walk from here to the place. She raised her voice suddenly.

Asha stopped the vehicle and turned her head towards her way. It was a dingy decadent place. As the local people saw her, they began catcalling and eve-teasing both the girls. Asha felt a sharp pang of disgust; disgust towards men. Men who could not see another human being in a female; men who could see only an animal of flesh and blood as their object of pleasure. A shudder ran down her spine and quickly Asha made a decision.

Mallika, she called out. Mallika stopped in her track and turned back.

Would you come with me?

Are you a lesbian? Mallika returned another question.

No. I want you to come with me as a friend and start a new life. I will send you to college, you can study and find a job for yourself, you can live your life with dignity.

Mallika hesitated for a moment. She walked up to Asha and stared at her with bloodshot eyes. She was crying.

It is the so-called dignified society of yours that has brought me to this situation. My ailing mother needs healthcare that I cannot afford by working. I am earning more than what I can make from a job. Many educated men who work at posh places come to me at night. You know what I feel? The life of people like you sucks. Your education system has failed, your family has failed and in all ways. Your men earn, pretending that they earn for their family and for their happiness. But, the paradox is they spend their money on me. They pay me generous amounts. Their house-wives may not even get so much as pocket money for a year. I can laugh at your lives and be content with mine. It is you and your society, who should know of dignity, not me.

Asha stood there for a long time, dumb-struck. Mallika had aroused a question that would stir her blood and thoughts for the whole night. But, never minding the perturbed air on that October 11th, earth moved on and it was night again. A night holds many secrets and the secrets dissolve into the darkest hours of night. Who would care about what happened to Mallika or her customers, the next day?

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is ‘Bittersweet October.'

Wednesday, 7 October 2015


Image Credit:  Jacek Yerka, 2011
I saw this note on the table.

I am tired of being someone, doing something, sticking to the schedule, obeying the rules, sleeping and rising at the same time; Yes, I am tired, I have lost the driving force. I am unable to move on. My languid limbs have no more desire to move and get somewhere. I am defeated; defeated by life. 

One night I want to sleep like this and float away accidental-like and reach someplace where there is no time, no ageing, no schedule, no being someone. When I wake up, I should know that such fey life is palpable, real, for sure, and it is finally mine! 

But, no! We all know there is no such thing. and with exasperating pain and her loss, I go back to my life again. She was missing one early morning.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 288


The storm is just over
Taking many lives with it
Leaving me dumb-struck.

Bereft and crying,
Unsure how to bury her
I pick up remain.

A wishful thinking
That she will return to me
Once to fill the loss.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "storm"

Wednesday, 30 September 2015


It was after many years that I was able to know which was that activity that gave me a connection with myself. Is it not true for everyone? It only after you cross a certain age or have a certain experience that you start realising important things in life.

I love music. It was rather inculcated in me by my father and grandmother. I went to music classes until a certain grade and later I lost interest in learning. I gave up learning, but a tinge of the learnt lessons are still ingrained when I sing. Listening to melodious music, especially when played on flute touches my heart and soul. I get this feeling that there is nothing to be done in this world apart from listening to music.

I love writing. Pouring out one's feelings to another person without a fear of being judged is a kind of therapy. It is a relief to know that there is someone to listen. That forms the basic need to write.

I am a religious person. I like being a part of poojas and festivals. The very fact that there exists the most exulted Lord, a person of highest rank and supreme qualities is itself a great example for us to 'try' to be like Him. I like to know everything about religion, sacred practices, sanctity and the very origin of such ideas.

From the outset, it is possible to connect with everything we do, if we can try. And if we can connect with everything we do, or do everything we find a connection with, that is the greatest personal development anyone can achieve; beyond the worldly educational degrees and honours.

Written for Indispire - edition 84 on

Tuesday, 29 September 2015


Image Credit: Gerrit Photography

I can see your reflection as you clicked away a reflection of mine. A reflection inside a reflection, is it not like a bizarre dream? There were only reflections and no real you and me in the picture; just like our love story. Our real selves were lost amidst our mechanical lives of our routine job and duties. When we met, only our shadows met. Those shadows, devoid of colours or feelings. Our goodbyes meant good riddance. Do you remember this picture that you clicked? So much surreal like our love story that was never meant to be. A love story, we never said 'yes' to.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 287

Monday, 28 September 2015


Between life and death
Life is transition
From nothing to forever.

From nothing to birth
Lifetime of love and hatred
And gone forever.

And gone forever
Leaving only memories.
Teardrops and smiles.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "between"

Saturday, 26 September 2015

A pinch of salt

There are different facades for TV commercials.
The very first one is that they are meant to sell a product to people.
The second is that they are a break from the regular programme that is being broad casted on a television.
The third is that they are another form of entertainment; because only that which can entertain and grab customer's attention is what sells.
The fourth is that they are a means of providing awareness to the society around.
Whichever way you try to view a commercial depends on your perspective. TV commercials, as we know, are as influential as they are expensive. They reach every member of a family from a toddler to an age-old person.

Personally, I find TV commercials interesting. I analyse the artistic talent of an ad agency, their way of presentation, the very core idea of a commercial and so on. Nowadays, there is extravagant emphasis on good-looks and physical appearance which is reflected in most of the commercials. There are myriad creams for turning a dark complexion fair. There is ample number of shampoos and hair oils to provide that last ray of hope to an ageing person or a balding person or a person with hair problems.TV commercials appear to meet every problem of our daily life and offer a solution to it. After all, our problems remain.

The projection that TV commercials portray sometimes appears like a mad-ad to me. For example, a lady is marriage-ready after she turns fairer. A husband is immensely happy because his wife washes his clothes really bright. A mother lets her child play in dirt because there is a one-stop solution for all the stains. I am amused at the way life's problem can be solved with such simple products or so they show. But, why are there problems still prevailing in our lives?

Why are we still fighting ageing when we know we will gradually get old, no matter which cream we use to prevent wrinkles, no matter which oil we use to grow hair, no matter which dye we use to colour the same and no matter what! Is it the mind-set of the society that makes these products sell? Or have these products really been so significant in our lives? What if we stopped being someone else by using these products?

We obviously, cannot go around with a balding head or a not-so-made-up face. These commercials and the products may not solve all our problems, but, they may mitigate some or it is just in our minds. So, we oscillate between growing old and staying young. It is the middle path we follow.

Image Credit:
The second trend that is prominent in all commercials is that "sex sells." Be it a deodorant, be it bathroom fittings, be it a soap, there has to be some body chemistry that is illustrated with the product as it catches attention. In few ways, it disgusts me, and I feel that it is the last, desperate and the worst form of getting attention from customers. It is, in other words, telling me, "Look here, I want to sell my product but, because my product is not worth your attention, I have some catchy obscenity that comes along with it."

Before such facts gets to one's nerves, one should decide to see the lighter side of thing. From that perspective, TV commercials can be funny and at times can mitigate the problems or sorrow in your life or they give an illusion of it.

So, lay back in repose, enjoy your cup of coffee and watch them. However, they are to be bought with a pinch of salt!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is ‘Television Commercial.'

Tuesday, 22 September 2015

Small life

Image Credit:

There was sunshine and flurry;
When she stepped out of the house,
But, rains put her life in a hurry
She ran to reach her spouse.

As she walked across a cafe,
Old memories were re-visited
Her exquisite feelings went astray
A small and easy life she coveted.

Like a queen she walked in
Tossing back her flowing hair
She was ready to indulge in a sin
Of coffee-addiction without a care!

For once she wanted to forget
That she had children to fend for
Chores to-be-done with sweat,
And her in-law's standing order.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 286

Monday, 21 September 2015


From my childhood I had developed this thing for quotes. As a school leader, I was in-charge of writing 'thought for the day' on black-board everyday. It was the duty that I loved to do every morning before my classmates rushed into the class. The joy of entering an empty classroom first in the morning before everyone stepped in was immense! Writing at the top of the black-board, balancing on a chair, I would give a fresh start for the day. If there was appreciation from teachers for the quotes written, that would take my spirits to a higher level. Those good old days were fun.

There are many quotes that captured my heart. The following are a few:

From the movie, The Pursuit of Happyness

From the movie, Tangled


Think before you ink
And think after you ink too
For a nice haiku.


Lazy holiday
Heavy meal and good music
A good sleep after.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "after"

Sunday, 20 September 2015

Hello faceless!

Divya was scared to death as she inched closer to her home sweet home. Her mother was worried too, looking at the sweaty daughter, awaiting her return from college. As Divya stood near the threshold, the mother and the daughter exchanged looks. Her mother grew apprehensive of what chased her dear daughter home. Divya was not the kind who would return home early in the evening. She always hanged out with her friends late in the evening. She would randomly pick a few strangers from online social networking sites once in a while, know them and meet them. This thing for new people and psychology kept her busy making new friends.

It all started with a small talk.

A: Hello! That profile pic of yours is really impressive!

Divya: Thank you! May I know who you are?

A: Your schoolmate, Mr.A.

Divya: Oh, hi, how are you doing? What are you up to these days?

And then without much detailed introduction, the chat continued with exchange of numbers and address.

Nobody would give away their personal details to a stranger. But, a known school mate? "What is the harm?", she thought.

After a few days, she had this sinister fear of being stalked. The fear stemmed from a creepy guy who stood around the corner of her house-street. She clearly identified his face, her school mate whom she met online a few days back. Though she tried to obliterate his existence in many ways, he existed in real; and right around the corner.

Unknown numbers bothered her all day long, she lost her inner peace; she stopped social networking; she disconnected from all online beings and all real beings. She stayed in her room all day and all night. She discontinued her education. Her interest in life dwindled.

Today, she is under medication and psycho-therapy for paranoia. Online social networking can deter her from her real life was an unimaginable thought, but it had come true.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is 'A simple hello can lead to...'

Tuesday, 15 September 2015


Image Credit:

Four walls and a window
Painted with my colour favourite
Soothing it is to just see and know
My childhood room it was, a sight.

Dappled sunshine in the front porch
Brought with it bird-songs and sun bloom,
The front window and the curving arch,
Imbued with life, not a sign of doom.

Revisiting the house this afternoon
Dilapidated house and a tattered roof
"You are welcome," birds no more croon
This prototype is its spoof.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 285

Monday, 14 September 2015


She was a teacher
Who commanded her respect
Energetic days.

Energetic days
Vibrant and knowledgeable
Mobile library.

Today she is old
Bed-ridden and motionless
Before and after.

Before and after
No heroine or hero
Can fight time and age.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "before"

Friday, 11 September 2015

Love for life

Inspiration can imbue life to a seed of an idea. To be able to be inspired and stay inspired is an expression of love for life. I have come across such love from a living entity who is now in her twilight years. 

She is around seventy-eight years old and if you think what can you expect from a lady so tired and aged, you are wrong. She is an epitome of inspiration. One moment she is laughing at a silly banter with her grand-children and the next moment she is frowning busily doing household chores. I would love to take inspiration from her following life story.

Image Credit:

It was a tough time. She was bereaved of her husband early in her age, with two sons and a married daughter(with a new-born baby). Shedding away all the conservative traditions and customs, she stood alone as a care-taker of the family. The sons were old enough to be bread-winners of the family. However, they chose to live off some saved earnings. They lived in a dilapidated house, which would give away during rains. Nightmares of the roof crumbling down like a pack of cards would disturb her. The house needed reconstruction. It was the only house they had to live and moreover, where was the money for renovation?

At the same time, there was an unsettled court case. The only land that was left by her mother as a gift to her was occupied by some crooked villagers who claimed the land as theirs. She needed some money for livelihood and decided to sell the land. She started receiving threats to her life with that decision. She ran down to the place for inspection and a villager threatened her with deadly weapons. She stood there alone, not afraid of her life, but, with a determined aim to find justice. Life had given her more difficulties than she had bargained for. A lost husband, un-earning sons, and a house that would anytime kill them by crashing down. She was the only woman of the house and she did prove it! She fought the legal-cases through several levels of courts from district to state and won over. The land was hers finally. 

Bread winner and a fighter

The next step she took was unbeleivable for a lady of that generation and making. She dared a huge amount of loan for the reconstruction of the house. The land of one house was split to construct two small ones so that she could rent it away and with the rent, she would repay the loan. The mortgage for the loan was the same house itself. She decided to live in a house that was leased for some amount of time, until the construction was over. Today, she has finished building the houses and has repaid all her loans and more; she is her own bread-winner. 

Yes, she might have collapsed down when alone, unable to muster strength for the difficulties that came by in a series, but, we never got to see that face. Yes, she might have cried alone through sleepless nights, but, we never got to see her tears. Yes, might have cursed her fate for bringing her life to a standstill in her youth, but, we never got to see that woman. 

She has always been a woman with a cheering smile on her face, in times of emptiness, in times of strife and in the living present! She has not won over medals, degrees and honours, but, she certainly has comprehended life beyond and above them all. Still waters run deep.

Personally, to me, she is the woman of the house who never failed womanhood and never failed to astonish manhood!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week’s WOW prompt is – ‘I was inspired to follow my dreams.'

I have run away!

Life is a great teacher. It teaches lessons the hard way and the lessons are etched in our memory throughout our lives. Among those lessons, one of the most important one is compromise. Yes, deny it how many ever times and in how many ever ways you want, but in the end, you will compromise either with the people around you or with your own life itself! If one learns this lesson well and in a dignified manner, this idea of eloping from the present probably never strikes your daily living.

We chase many dreams in life, not knowing whether it is the true calling of our life, until there is some point in life where you have to decide between only the two choices, 'true calling' or the other to-be-done. Haven't you, at some point in life, realised that you are chasing a wrong dream? If your answer is no, well done! But, if your answer is yes, then, one might pause and ask oneself, "Am I born to do this?" or "Do I think I am born to do this?" Life then makes us stand at crossroads wondering which way is for me. Here I am at the same crossroads with the following choices.

Image Credit:

Choice 1:

I always wanted to do my Masters and Ph.D, I thought I was born to do it. However, it didn't materialise for many reasons. If I elope from the present, I would pursue my higher studies.

Choice 2:

I always wanted to settle abroad. "Grass appears greener on the other side", a few may think, but why not check it out yourself?

Choice 3:

I wanted to be a traveller. I love to travel places, click pictures and enjoy the palpable joy that travelling bestows. 

Is it not crazy to elope and run behind our imagination of an unknown dreamy beautiful life than to croon along with the present life? Who knows tomorrow anyway? A few of your true calling may come true in your future, if not for present.

Wednesday, 9 September 2015


I cannot believe my eyes that I am finally here at my dream destination. I always wanted to visit this place at least once in my lifetime and at most settle here for the rest of my life. Today, on my birthday, I am here as a visitor. Thank you, my life, for making this happen!

Divya finished scribbling in her diary and raised her head to look through the window. These little dreams, silly frenzy at fulfilling them, that exultation of heart for petty things become wonderful memories in life. Life!

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 284

Monday, 7 September 2015


His own life floated
In front of the dying man
The bullet pierced him.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "float"

Two minutes

Life is short
This poem might last
In your heart
Read it fast.

Written for Indispire-edition 81 on

Thursday, 3 September 2015

To know

Peonies, William Merritt Chase, 1897

She smelled those flowers, some of them already withering. It was her husband who sent them without missing her birthday every year. Well, it was a standing order at the flower shop. The fragrance filled the room and it brought with it some distant memories, a forgotten song, a memory of an enchanting evening, when they were newly married. Life was perfect and beautiful.

She smelled those flowers again, this time, nonchalantly. Maybe, it was not meant to be. After ten years, they drifted apart because she was never happy with him. And soon he began to realise that he could never make her feel happy, nor could he be. They separated.

She smelled those flowers again, and stared at the distant sky. She had her child's custody and as a single mom she never had time to find a man of her life again. Days rolled into months, months rolled into years, as she lost her youth and beauty.

He never made contacts with her after they separated; not even had he remembered to cancel the order at the flower shop. Maybe, she was just a dot in his universe today. Ah, those flowers again. They always awakened the long lost memories. But, tonight it brought a realization to her.

She was not happy today too. It was not the marriage that made her unhappy. It was she who was unhappy with, her own self.

Alas! It took a marriage and twenty years of long gone life to know. Life is brutal.Yes it is.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 283

Monday, 31 August 2015


He ran, ran away
From past that crept into
The future of life.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "past"

Thursday, 27 August 2015


On October 19th again, he had a filling English breakfast.
Baked beans, toasted bread with butter and honey, yogurt, pancakes and croissants were her choices.
It was his curiosity to feel and know why his Indian wife loved an English breakfast that she would not mind eating everyday.
He had a cup of delicious chocolate milkshake, her favourite way of finishing off the breakfast.
And then he smiled at the opposite empty seat, like the previous October 19th, wishing she was alive to enjoy it on his birthday.

Monday, 24 August 2015

Movie Review - Uppi 2

Image Credit: Google
Being a Kannadiga, I am not very proud of kannada movies, owing to the quality of language used in the movies, the uninteresting plot or the quality of music. However, Uppi 2 struck a different chord.

The concept of the movie is the stark truth of life. If you give up being selfish (naanu), you will realize the importance of life. It is what every religion has to say, it is what every philosophy has to propagate. The 'I' in you dies, when you see the 'you' in others. And then life just boils down to a simple plane.


The way he has brought life to the characters called 'naanu', 'neenu' and avnu, linking them through a philosophical straight line and has made a suspense story out of it, was what kept me captivated throughout the movie. The meaning of the movie is very subjective, meaning to say, each person can interpret this movie in his own way, depending on how he is wired in his brain. This makes me feel like I saw one of Christopher Nolan movies. The ending is left to readers' discretion. You see what you make of it.

The very fact that none of the present Kannada directors are attempting such movies, nowadays, this movie stands out in the crowd. I salute this man for taking this step. Also, I do realise that he has taken a great risk by directing this movie, in terms of money; because not everyone understands this movie for once, if you do understand, you will surely appreciate the beauty of the concept. Else, a few impatient viewers might throw their ticket away, taking home nothing at all, given the fact, that most people in our country watch movies for entertainment, recreation and for an adrenaline rush. A handful may expect a thought-provoking movie for a break. Hence, I justify that it is a risky venture in terms of money.


Here are the facts that I do not like about the movie; It is typically a Upendra movie when there has to be a double-meaning non-vegetarian joke. It irks me when it is especially about a woman. I have a strong belief that a woman should be respected for all she is. Some of the scenes in his movies perturb me when I am in for a shock. Another fact is that Upendra has this habit of clubbing random scenes together and making it a movie. Sometimes, at such points, the continuity of the movie or a scene is lost, and the viewer is teased. I do not know if he does this on purpose or if it is his innate quality. Whatever it is, I find it moderately offhand for a movie presentation.

Rating: 4 stars.

Verdict: I definitely recommend this movie to everyone. It IS thought provoking and such movies ARE needed for the current era.


As the mother brushed
Her son's bushy and thick hair
She looked in the mirror

She looked in the mirror
And saw what time did to her
As she grew older.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "brush"

Tuesday, 18 August 2015


Love of Earth and sky
Witnessed by a passer-by
Lead to horizon.
Crossroads stare at me
Leading to oblivion
Life in Wonderland.

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Lipstick paradox

There used to be an aging receptionist who sported myriad colours of lipstick on different days matching her dress, nails or her vanity bag. 
It used to be a spectacle to watch how she would splash different colours on her body and make a fashion statement everyday.
One day, surprised to see her with eye make-up only and no lipstick, I registered it to myself.
She felt so conscious about it that she walked across to me and told me that her lips had an allergy to lipstick colours and she can no more wear them.
I smiled at life's irony and said, "When you want to look good, life won't let you."


The smoke conjured up mysterious, undecipherable images as she smoked them out from her mouth. Smoking had caused a random mass of cells in her body to multiply with brute force, leading to cancer. Doctors, family, friends and well wishers had advised her to give up the untamed habit. Whatsoever, she did not digress, not once. And one day, she had that last cigarette, bled profusely, swearing at 'you-know-who' who was responsible for her fate, and finally her life was on a mute once and for all.

But, the worst part was that she left a ten-year old daughter behind. She died everyday, slowly, and in many ways. It was not cancer, but worse. Only I could not put it in a few words and get done with, like her mother's.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 282

Monday, 10 August 2015


The world stopped stand-still
As you grabbed away
The love of my life.

Days and months passed
I am still trying to fill
That hole in my heart.

Months and years passed
That empty hole in my heart
I could never fill.

All the days and nights
Maybe the rest of my life
I will try to fill.

That is the good part
I have a reason to live
To tend to my heart.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "grab"

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

A lifetime just passed. All my dreams of a bright future are buried in my heart, in an unknown corner that is dingy and dark. I have locked them all safely, locked them and thrown away the keys so that I myself cannot open them. That way life is easier. I do not know whether it is right or wrong, but surely that is easier. Who gets to decide right wrong anyway? But, today I'm happy because this is how I wanted to die. Stark naked, covered by weeds, grass and flowers. That is how I lived my life. Without concealment, without treachery, without lying. But, many lied to me, many did not let me achieve my dreams, many betrayed me and many had hidden intentions. So, I want to show them all that I have nothing to hide unlike them. And that is how I die. With all the dignity in the world. Inornate like naked earth.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 281

Monday, 3 August 2015


The child took a peek
The window showed a stranger
Who was soon shut out.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "window"

Thursday, 30 July 2015


The iridescent bubbles played games with the street light by the window showing all the colours at once on the same film.
They emanated from the bubble maker in Kavya's restless hands.
It was 2 o clock in the morning, it was another sleepless night as a mother.
The previous day Kavya's daughter had spoken her first word, calling her mother "Amma!" - the happiness of being recognized as a mother was overwhelming!
But, as a daughter, she could not stop wondering how her own mother felt tonight after disowning her 26 years ago, merely because she was born as a girl.

Tuesday, 28 July 2015

The Mask

Image source:

You have slashed away my wings
I used to be a free bird that sings.
I came down crashing to the ground
My life changed soon in a bound.

There was no more freedom
Yet, I made the ground my kingdom
I brought my own sunshine
I thought my life was again mine.

Your pleasure was not satisfied yet
The more you got, the more you wanted to get
So they tore my body apart
Ruthless men had no heart!

A thing of beauty is joy forever
Beauty is only for respect and savour
People thought so once upon a time
Now every woman is a victim of crime.

Today I am left with only a face
Shame to mankind that lacks grace!
I am the modern woman with a mask
Every woman wears it, if you ask!

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 280 


I saw a mirage
It looked promising
I ran to follow.

I came a long way
With a tired and panting heart
Chasing a wrong dream.

Before I knew it,
Before I stopped to reflect,
My life was half done.

Could you hold my hands,
Show me the ethereal,
If I followed you?

Please do hold my hands
Oh, spiritual Guru!
I will follow you.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "follow"

Thursday, 23 July 2015


She just ran from one stage of life to another - from being a girl; to a woman; to a wife; to a mother; to a mother-in-law; to an aged dying person. 
Life just moved on and she swam with the flow without questioning, "What is the point?"
She had lost her husband in her early years, she was the only bread winner for her growing children, she struggled to give them a life that she could not make, she married them off only to put up with a difficult daughter-in-law and grand children.
Finally she died today morning just throwing away all those scorching years for a toss.
When I saw her for the last time, dead and crumpled in white sheets, I asked myself " What is the point?"

Tuesday, 21 July 2015


Image source:
Life is as you take it
A downward spiral
Or an upward miracle
Choose what seems fit.

Be sure to take one step a time
'Cause life is short and fleeting
You have to do your own climbing
'Cause you cannot buy everything with dime.

What goes around, comes around
So be fair to every person you meet
Say nice words, smile and greet
It is up to you to be lost or found.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 279 


As wind swept leaves
"I am not done living yet"
Read the epitaph.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "sweep"

Thursday, 9 July 2015

Not so perfect

Bathers, 1950 by George Tooker
It was her first time in the girls' hostel. Until then she had never shared a room with anyone. Being a team was something her system could not understand. This was a whole new experience altogether and she opted for it. Little did she know that she had to wait in a queue until the one inside finished her bath turn by turn. She looked away scornfully cursing her mates.

How would she know it is okay to wait for someone as long as they are friends ? It is okay to lose some time for someone if you can make a good friend. It is okay to give up something that is yours for someone as long as you make moments and memories that are unforgettable.

It is really okay to not be so perfect all the time. Somebody please tell her.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 277

Tuesday, 7 July 2015


When life questions you,
And you are in serious doubt,
Keep calm and move on.

Life never promised
Only sunshine and flowers
Keep calm and move on.

This phase shall soon pass
So hang on there for sometime
Before you give up.

When tomorrow comes
And the storm is soon over,
You will smile again.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "calm"

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

Look away

Midsummer Night's Melancholy by Michael Sowa
She was always expecting his return or a sign that he still loved her. It was going to be dusk. It was the time he would always come back home and give her a warm hug. This longing, this setting sun, this evanescence was overwhelming. She always looked for him and he looked for her too. Only that they did not know they always looked in the wrong direction.

They just did not look for happiness at the right time and at the right place.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 276